


it's time for mistletoe and holly

by colazitron



Series: 2017 December Holiday Fic Countdown [14]
Category: Dunkirk (2017) RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mistletoe, y'all know where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 22:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13017765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: Tom hosts a funkirk reunion Christmas party.





	it's time for mistletoe and holly

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with the persons depicted herein nor is this meant to represent reality in any meaningful way. This is all in good fun.
> 
> For anon who asked for more Harry/Fionn!

**FUNKIRK**

**Tom** : LADS. Christmas reunion party thing at my place

 **Barry** : I'm in!

 **Jack** : Yeah sure

 **Aneurin** : Sounds fun

when?

 **Tom** : 20th

 **Jack** : It's a good thing none of us have day jobs

 **Barry** : perks of being mad famous

 **Aneurin** : none of us are that either

 **Barry** : Harry is

Harry's not even in this group chat

 **Tom** : he's coming though, I texted him

 **Barry** : Wheyyy!

 **Jack** : Woo!

 **Aneurin** : Nice!

again, he's not in this groupchat, he can't see you cheer

 **Tom** : he can if I send him a screenshot

 **Aneurin** : Oh Fionnley you've done it now

 **Barry** : ahaha poor H

I can't believe I'm the youngest person here

 **Jack** : d'you want us to bring anything Thomas? Booze?

 **Tom** : nah, I've got it covered. Just show up.

 **Aneurin** : gonna need an address for that

 **Jack** : what, you don't know where he lives off by heart? Shame on you, Annie

 **Barry** : boo!

 **Aneurin** : as if you know

 

Fionn snorts a laugh at the antics, but before he can think of something to comment, he gets distracted by the beep of an incoming message. Glancing at the top of his screen to see if it's something he needs to deal with now or something that can be postponed, he finds it's a message from Harry.

 

**H**

You're not excited to see me :(

Did you just use an emoji?

Because you made me sad Fionnley :((

Oh dear. Two mouths sad?

:(((

You're ridiculous. I think you're being cheered everywhere you go by enough people.

But you're not people.

Awwww

 

Fionn rubs his hand on his thigh and tries to pretend there's not a little heat in his cheeks while he watches those three little dots jump that tell him that Harry's typing again.

 

**H**

But really. I've missed you! I'll be glad to see you again.

Yeah me too. It'll be good to see all the boys again. It's been a while!

 

Fionn's fingers go cold while he watches that bubble pop up again and again while Harry's typing and stopping.

 

**H**

Yeah

 

There's a sinking feeling in Fionn's gut that he really has done something wrong, nibbling on the tip of his thumb while he stares at the one-word response that definitely didn't take that much time to type. Maybe it's just because he made a typo or. Maybe he sneezed and had to blow his nose halfway through. There could be an explanation to this where Fionn chickening out of that sentiment didn't hurt Harry.

It's just.

It's just that Harry and he don't talk too often. Or they do, for a few days or even weeks sometimes and then one or both of them get busy and the messages stop and there's radio silence for a few months. They haven't spoken since before Harry went back on tour and it's. It's hard to believe that Harry really missed _him_. More than the others, that is. He doesn't know how much Harry keeps in touch with them. And sure, Fionn missed Harry a bit more than he missed the rest of the lads but Fionn gets attached easily and Harry was the person he spent the most time with on that shoot so he sort of latched onto him. Like a duckling or something.

God, it feels really pathetic how much Fionn likes Harry, sometimes. He just really doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

 

**H**

I gotta run but see you soon Fionnley!

See you then!

:)

 

Fionn taps back over into the group chat only to see they've all left too, calling him out for vanishing and being rude. Tom's address is right there as well, so Fionn types it into a note and then sends them a goodbye/apology.

 

**FUNKIRK**

Sorry got a text. See you soon!

 

 

Tom asks him to come over early to set up, and when he answers the door he's wearing a bright red jumper with tiny Santa hats printed approximately where his nipples would be and an actual Santa hat sat jauntily on his hair. Fionn is not wearing a Christmas jumper.

“Fionn!” Tom says and wraps him in a brief hug before stepping aside to let him come in.

Fionn toes out of his shoes and hangs up his coat and knows exactly when Tom realises his lack of festive attire from the way Tom's bright grin fades into a frown.

“It's a Christmas party, Fionn,” he admonishes.

“No one said anything about a dress code,” Fionn defends himself, but gamely trots after Tom when he grabs his arm and drags him into his bedroom.

“It's a good thing I'm prepared for this kind of situation,” Tom says, head already stuck in his wardrobe.

“You mean it's a good thing you're obsessed with themed jumpers?”

“Yes,” Tom beams when he returns and hands a black one to Fionn.

When Fionn unfolds it there's a dachshund wearing, of course, a Santa hat made entirely from metallic shimmery sequins on the front. Fionn debates making a fuss for exactly a second, but then pulls off his own jumper with a sigh and slips it on. It's comfy, at least. Warm and not scratchy.

“Very nice,” Tom says with a large grin, and Fionn can't help smiling back.

“Alright, alright. You satisfied now?”

“Yes, very,” Tom says. “Shall we?”

Fionn nods and follows him back to his living/dining room where boxes of decorations are set out that seem, to Fionn, a little overkill. But that's sort of the point of Christmas decorations, isn't it. Doing just a little bit too much with a bit of unnecessary glitter and bells and cheer. And, rolling his eyes at Tom's eyebrow waggle, a sprig of mistletoe, because that's apparently a requirement of any Christmas party.

“You have to have those awkward kisses,” Tom says, balancing on a chair and letting Fionn hand him the mistletoe to try and affix to the ceiling with thumb tacks of all things.

“None of us are going to make it all that awkward though,” Fionn points out.

“Doesn't matter,”Tom says, and hops back down from his chair when he's satisfied, staring up at the plant for a while like he's waiting to see if it'll come back down.

When it doesn't, he turns to Fionn, a grin already on his face.

“I know,” Fionn says, and grabs Tom around the back of his neck, pressing his smile to Tom's.

Tom hums like he's very pleased Fionn's playing along and then pecks him on the cheeks firmly when Fionn pulls away again a few moments later.

Half an hour into hanging up baubles and garlands and fairy lights, Tom casually says, “I've got mulled wine on the stove, by the way,” which is how they end up just a little tipsy by the time the others all show up. They end up drinking more mulled wine, of course, but they're all sipping it, no one really looking to get hammered tonight. Most of them have caught each other under the mistletoe as well, by design or genuine coincidence, and to Tom's obvious and smug pleasure it's always good for a cheer and a jovial laugh.

It's nice, this. Catching up and hearing what everyone's been up to over the last few months. How Barry's hands got to looking like they do takes them through quite a few stories. It's mad, Fionn thinks, how different they all are and how this one shared passion for film and acting somehow brought and keeps them together anyway.

Tom's telling a story he's heard twice before, so it's as good a moment as any to get up for a piss. He checks his watch as he goes, a little startled it's already past one in the morning. It doesn't feel like they've been here that long, but the harsh white light of the bathroom suddenly makes Fionn feel more tired than he is and he lets cold water run over his wrists for a moment to wake himself up, wets his face as well. It does the trick for a bit, and Fionn supposes he'll get back into the swing of it when he rejoins the others. If not, someone does have to be the first to leave, as Tom doesn't really have the room for all of them to sleep over.

He stretches the cracks in his back out as he makes his way back, and smiles at Harry as he passes him to, presumably, also use the bathroom. Or maybe just get something else to drink from the kitchen. They've not spoken just the two of them since their brief text exchange last week, and Fionn still feels a tiny seedling of guilt nagging at him in the pit of his belly, even though Harry has been nothing but pleasant all evening. No trace of any kind of hard feelings. But that's the thing with Harry – he's gotten really, really good at putting on the cheerful face over the last half decade or so. Fionn doesn't really know him well enough to always see through it.

“Stop!” Tom yells, and Fionn freezes where he stands, looking up and over at Tom with wide eyes, trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Harry, when Fionn looks over at him, seems equally clueless.

“Mistletoe, you idiots,” Jack says after about five seconds of complete silence.

Fionn looks up, cheeks hot when he finds himself smack dab underneath that stupid plant. He hadn't thought of that for even a second, but even if he had, what would he have done? Avoided Harry underneath it? That would have been the height of bad sportsmanship and quite needlessly mean. Fionn doesn't mind the idea of kissing Harry, he just maybe minds the idea of only kissing Harry a little and then having to go home to an empty flat, lying in his big bed alone with the knowledge of what Harry's lips feel like on his own. And the knowledge that it'll never happen again, even if it'll have barely happened this time.

The problem isn't that Fionn doesn't want to kiss Harry so badly he'd avoid it, the problem is that the persistent spark of guilt in his belly sits right next to an equally persistent spark of hope that he hasn't been imagining the way their text conversations sometimes go flirty. That Harry texting him out of the blue might mean something. That when Harry says he “missed you” he really does mean Fionn, specifically.

“Oh, right,” he says, a little too quietly, and turns to face Harry.

The look on Harry's face is a little serious, eyes flitting over Fionn's face like he's trying to work something out. Fionn can't help but frown back, wondering what on Earth it is that Harry's hoping to find there.

“You good?” Harry asks finally after what feels like an eternity, but was probably only a second or two.

God, Fionn's never been so conscious of the way he has to tilt his head up to talk to someone. And he's not even that tall! It happens every now and then. He's done it to talk to Harry a hundred times before.

But none of those have been quite as chest to chest, and certainly none of them have been underneath a mistletoe.

Fionn nods and tries a smile on for size. Harry smiles back, so he must be doing well.

“Just hanging out,” he says. “How about you?”

Harry huffs a laugh, and Fionn's smile ticks up a notch, sitting more comfortably on his lips.

“Much the same,” Harry says. “I'm going to kiss you now though.”

“That's alright,” Fionn says, balling the hand on the side of his body that the boys in the living room can't see to a fist when Harry takes one hand and cradles his jaw and cheek in it.

It's so gentle, so almost unbearably tender, the way Harry's touching him. And he's smiling and his eyes glitter and his lips are very, very pink. Stained from mulled wine and the way Harry can't seem to stop absentmindedly pulling at them with his fingers when he listens to someone talk or thinks about something. Fionn wasn't even really aware he'd been looking, but suddenly his cheeks go hot again and he wonders if everyone could tell that he's been staring at Harry and his soft-looking red tartan jumper. It's probably Gucci, too.

It takes a moment of staring at Harry's mouth to realise that he's stopped moving closer, and when Fionn's eyes flick back up to Harry's, they're a little hooded, and he's looking down at Fionn in a way that makes Fionn close his eyes and lean forward the last bit just so he won't have to think about what that look means. If it means anything at all.

Harry's lips are warm. Warm and soft. That's the first thing Fionn registers. Then the feeling of Harry's hand on his cheek comes back when it twitches a little like Harry's thinking about moving it. They're just standing there with their mouths pressed together, and given how Fionn rushed into it it should be awkward, but somehow they've lined up perfectly, lips puckered around each other's, heads tilted just enough to the right sides for it to be a really… a really nice kiss. A sweet kiss. Not one as short and firm and lovely but ultimately meaningless as all the others Fionn has had today.

This one makes him swallow a tiny sigh back down and squeeze his fist tighter so he won't put the other hand on Harry's waist, or his shoulder, or in his hair, or anything on him. It makes Fionn's head spin more than the mulled wine did. He has absolutely no idea how long it's been going on either, but he doesn't want it to end, even though he knows they're being watched and that everything is probably far too quiet for this to still be normal. There should be cheering and laughter and they should pull back, but instead Fionn tips his head a little more to the side and Harry's hand slides along the line of his jaw into his hair like he always meant to do that.

Fionn's mouth opens practically without his say-so and Harry's either not far behind or already a step ahead, because his is open too, and when Harry's second hand comes up to hold the other side of Fionn's face, Fionn gives up on his own hands and digs his fingers into the absurdly soft wool-blend covering Harry's sides.

It's still a slow kiss. A chaste kiss, aside from the way their mouths open against each other now, but that spark of hope in Fionn's belly is threatening to set everything on fire any moment. He can practically feel the need and want to wrap his arms around Harry's neck and stumble backwards until he's pushed up against the wall behind him well up in his chest, and when Harry shuffles forward not even half a step, Fionn makes a small noise and almost sinks right into the movement, willing to let Harry steer him wherever he wants him.

Instead, the sound reminds him of how quiet it still is around them, how that shouldn't be the case, of where they are and that Fionn really, really needs to end this kiss.

He's pretty sure he looks a blushing mess when he pulls away out of the kiss, actually stumbling backwards a bit and leaning against the wall to help steady himself. He wants to reach up to touch his lips, but he doesn't want to make it any more obvious how badly affected he is by this, so he keeps them still, doesn't even lick his lips either, just swallows and tries to ignore how wet they feel.

Harry's blinking at him slowly, like there's something new for him to figure out.

“Right,” Tom says loudly into the quiet, and Fionn almost flinches. “That put us all to shame.”

Jack and Barry laugh loudly, and Aneurin gives an amused snort.

Harry grins over at them and then lets his gaze sweep over Fionn once before turning towards the kitchen to get himself a glass of water.

Fionn rejoins the rest of them on the living room, and Harry, when he comes back, sits down right beside Fionn, bodies pressed together a bit more than they need to be. If anyone asks, Fionn is going to blame the flush in his cheeks on the heat in the room or a delayed reaction to the wine. Not that anyone would believe him, but they might do him the favour of pretending. It's good to have a plan, in any case.

No one asks, though, and Fionn gradually relaxes back into the conversation, though he can't stop being hyper-aware of everywhere Harry's body is touching his.

When Barry's telling another story about one of his boxing sessions, Harry leans over and whispers in Fionn's ear.

“I missed you.”

Fionn's belly swoops and he keeps his eyes stubbornly averted, waits for what Harry plans to do, hovering by his ear like he is, and tries not to feel disappointed when he doesn't do anything. Instead he briefly meets Tom's gaze and then turns away to Harry. The hope in his belly glows too hot to let this moment pass too.

“I missed you too,” he whispers back.

 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Come leave me a prompt on my tumblr @fille-lioncelle, if you want!
> 
> Actually, Harry's Christmas jumper is [Balmain](https://gq-images.condecdn.net/image/nDybgzOmOgr/crop/1020).
> 
> Tom's and Fionn's are both from [this list](http://www.marieclaire.co.uk/fashion/shopping/best-christmas-jumpers-33112).


End file.
